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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27543121">when london ghosts meet</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvereiaa/pseuds/silvereiaa'>silvereiaa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>victorian/edwardian era haikyuu [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>18th Century, Akaashi is an orphan, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, BokuAka Day, BokuAka Week 2020, Bokuaka - Freeform, Bokuto Koutarou &amp; Kuroo Tetsurou Friendship, Eventual Romance, Kuroo being Kuroo, M/M, Mentioned Oikawa Tooru, POV Akaashi Keiji, POV Bokuto Koutarou, Sad Akaashi Keiji, Sad Bokuto Koutarou, Soulmates, Strangers, bokuto is rich, bokuto wearing dress suit, late night rendezvous in blackfriar's bridge</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:08:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,193</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27543121</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvereiaa/pseuds/silvereiaa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Akaashi was an orphan in Victorian London and Bokuto was a boy from a wealthy and prominent family. On December 31st, two miserable souls in their search for solace, found each other in the heavy silence of Blackfriars Bridge.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akaashi Keiji &amp; Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Bokuto Koutarou &amp; Kuroo Tetsurou, Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>victorian/edwardian era haikyuu [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014090</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>when london ghosts meet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>im obsessed 18th/19th century bokuaka &lt;3<br/></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>1887, December 31<sup>st</sup></p><p>It was the 31st of December when Akaashi silently walked along the filthy, cobbled paths of London underneath the murky starless sky, eyes bleary with unshed tears like a phantom—numb and empty.</p><p>He didn't know where his feet had dragged him or how many hours have already passed by only that he was currently lost to the feeling of despair that ensnared both his mind and heart.</p><p>He looked up, his vision following the steady rhythm of the River Thames to his right. The glare of nearby lampposts and houses danced along the starkness of the river, creating swirls of light that for a moment his breath caught from its beauty and, momentarily and for a quick instance, he forgot the pain in his chest.</p><p>It didn't last long when a heavy crash across the street broke his trance. Shortly, he averted his gaze and continued walking, approaching the unfamiliar silence of Blackfriars Bridge instead.</p><p>As he went, he would hear the sounds of cheerful laughter from children inside their warm homes, smiles plastered on their faces waiting for the clock to strike midnight. Not too far away, he would notice the clinking of wineglasses and the hurried shuffle of heels as the rich revel and celebrate their annual festive gatherings.</p><p>His heart constricted as he realized the unfortunate fact that he would never get to experience the same joy and happiness that all of them do. Not with the people back from the Fukurodani Gazette who sheltered him but never really cared and most certainly not from his real family. Because, of course, they were long gone and dead.  Ghosts of the past that should stay in the past.</p><p>Akaashi's thoughts went back to the events earlier that morning. The reason behind the weight of sadness on his chest.</p><p>That morning, he found himself entering Yamiji Takeyuki’s office, the Editor-in-Chief of the Fukurodani Gazette to ask him about his daily errands. However, the editor wasn't around but before he could leave, his eye caught sight of a familiar newspaper article on top of her desk. It was already too late when Akaashi knew he made a mistake. He moved to read the headlines and instantly, went still.</p><p>It was an article dated 17 years ago. It was on this same day, December 31st in the year 1870. It barely 26 days after he was born. His hands started uncontrollably shaking as his dark eyes quickly scanned the text.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“HOLBORN'S NEWSPAPER PUBLICATION ADOPTS A CHILD”</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Akaashi stopped breathing.</p><p>His family didn't pass away in a car crash 17 years ago.</p><p>The gazette didn't adopt him because all his family members were dead.</p><p>Rather.</p><p>The gazette adopted him because all his family members left him to die.</p><p>His family abandoned him, tiny and alone.</p><p>And, he never knew. Not until today.</p><p>No one. Not a single soul really bothered to tell him the truth.</p><p>Akaashi's mind reeled from the information that he just read. His pulse wildly raced beneath him, the rush of his blood thumping loudly on his ears. He mustered his strength to back away. Taking slow steps backwards, he swallowed a lump on his throat, willing himself to breathe.</p><p>Then, as he finally reached the wide entrance of the publication's building.</p><p>He ran.</p><p>Fingers shaking, he sprinted away from his so-called home. Escaping the bitter truth of his existence. Drowning out the wretched emotions. Even though, he knew this was all futile.</p><p>Akaashi winded up broken and confused in the streets of London. For the first time in years, he wanted to disappear. If only he could. Better to vanish than to dwell on misery.  But then, he couldn't even cry even if he wanted to. Everything hurt too much that he was numb. He just wanted to drift away, like a lonely feather falling. How ironic that he hates the sickening phantom of his family clinging to him and that he, himself, became a ghost of their casualty.</p><p>The raven-haired boy's thoughts went back to reality as he viewed the scene of Blackfriars Bridge in front of him.</p><p>He eyed the railway bridge that ran along the east side of it, hidden in the shadows as it stretches to the river's opposite bank.</p><p>Slowly, he ascended the steps, making his way to the center of the bridge. He glanced at the river beyond, a dark mystery underneath the moonlight. He leaned against a parapet and closed his eyes, shutting the world out and the burdens of his being with no one but the faint rush of the Thames underneath and the light London fog shrouding the air above him.</p><p> </p><p>××××</p><p> </p><p>Bokuto snickered as he hurriedly made his way through the throng of guests dancing and talking inside the ballroom.He crossed the room, blending within the crowd of dresscoats and long gowns. Heeled boots clicking and clacking against smooth floors.</p><p>With a half-full wineglass in hand, the young boy barely skirted a group of old men chuckling over crooked political views and almost spilled the contents of his glass if he weren't steadied by a waiter. He instantly muttered an apology and continued walking fast not risking a glance on his pursuer repeatedly calling out for his name.</p><p>This has always been the scenario every year and Bokuto dreads it ever since. On New Year’s eve, his family would get invited to celebrate the whole evening on some wealthy Victorian's exclusive ball where his father would discuss land investments to his fellow peers, his older sisters flirting with the rich families' sons and while Bokuto is left to stop his mother's attempts of match pairing.</p><p>And every year he barely gets away with it.</p><p>Bokuto dodges another waiter with two large trays in hand and as he was about to swerve on the left and reach the entrance of the building, his mother caught up with him.</p><p>“Koutaro, no.” Her firm hand held still on his shoulders.</p><p>With only a few meters between him and the massive gilded doors of the estate,  he didn't face her instead he let out an annoyed breath.</p><p>When his mother realized he wasn't going to respond, she continued.</p><p>“Have some decency and return inside immediately.” She added with a stern look and voice.  “Mr. Kuroo is looking forward for you to meet his daughter. Please do not humilate us.”</p><p>As much as he loathes returning back to party, he doesn't really have a choice because if he refused, he would have to endure his father's wrath and Bokuto certainly does not want to get on his bad side.</p><p>Sighing, the golden-eyed boy turned towards his mother but before they could take a single step forward, someone interrupted them.</p><p>“My sister, you say?” A playful tone hinting the person's words.</p><p>Bokuto averted his attention to the owner and there he was greeted by a familiar young gentleman with a disheveled hair and a mischievous grin.</p><p>The guy gave him a short amused glance which he returned with a smirk before turning back to his mother.</p><p>“Good evening, Mrs. Bokuto. I'm sorry if I'm interrupting but I've happened to overhear your conversation with Koutarou here about my sister and my father.” The young lad who happens to be Bokuto's good friend, Kuroo Tetsurou, shifted to a surprisingly gentle and polite tone as he talked to the woman.</p><p>“My father left just a few minutes ago because he had something very important to address. My sister, on the other hand, is with her friends having an oddly long conversation with Mr. Oikawa Tooru. ”</p><p>Bokuto hardly suppressed his grin as he listened to Kuroo outwardly saving his ass.</p><p>“Would you mind though if I borrow him for a while to grab some drinks and to catch up with things? You know.. just us gentlemen chatting.. and maybe... meet some ladies and taki– ”</p><p>“I think my mother understands where you're getting at.” Bokuto interrupted the boy, a hand on his forearm as he shook his head with a small wicked smile</p><p>Bokuto's mother was silent for a while, assessing the situation. She was unsure if letting the boy out of her sight again is a good idea.</p><p>Bokuto fidgeted with his foot. A few minutes have passed before she finally faced his son .</p><p>“Alright, you can go. But, do not leave the premises and make sure to be back before midnight strikes.” She gave both boys one last look, turned on her heel and went the opposite way. </p><p>When she's finally out of earshot, Bokuto whirled towards Kuroo and collapsed in laughter, punching the tall lad on his chest.</p><p>“You're damn bricky for lying on her face like that!”</p><p>Kuroo just gave him another mischievous grin and shrugged. “I wasn't entirely lying.”</p><p> </p><p>“Clearly, that is still lying.”</p><p>“Does it really matter?” </p><p>“Well, if Mother sta–</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, Kuroo spoke before he could even finish the sentence with narrowed brows and two broad arms crossed.  “Alright then, would you have preferred to spend the rest of evening dallying with my sister? Which I tell you by the way is certainly not the most delightful experience if you want to survive the night with your ears still intact, you ungrateful brat.”</p><p> </p><p>Bokuto unfazed from Kuroo's sudden annoyance only chuckled but as the other boy was about to open his mouth again, he raised both his hands in surrender–the other still clasping an empty galss decanter and move backwards towards the entrance. </p><p> </p><p>“Crikey. I apologize. Didn't mean to push your buttons.” He was slowly descending the steps eyes still trailed to his friend who was now raising a perfectly defined eyebrow. </p><p>“Thank you though. I owe y–” </p><p>Bokuto tripped himself and crashed against an old marble statue situated infront of the estate's foyer. He dropped his wineglass the same time as the cherub statue tilted sideways and hit the cobblestones in the entryway with a loud thud. Dusts and leaves flew everywhere ruining his slick white-grey hair and his ivory dress suit.</p><p>This time it was Kuroo who was snickering widely at the golden-eyed boy's ungraceful situation. </p><p>“Good luck with that.” He gave him an arch salute and returned inside, leaving Bokuto ungainly and confused. </p><p>         </p><p>××××</p><p> </p><p>Bokuto staggered away from the grounds and made his way down the chilly air of Tudor Street.</p><p>As he silently moved across alleys, the young lad was grateful that Kuroo didn’t prod for further questions regarding his plans tonight. If he was honest, he didn’t really know where he was going. Usually, whenever he gets to escape, he would head over to his favorite tavern, Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese in Fleet Street but apparently the owner, who was a good friend of his, informed him that the tavern would be closed for the holidays this year. Bokuto sighed and wished he was back home in Chiswick instead where he could spend the night drunk with his mates, Miya Atsumu and Hinata Shoyou. After all, he would rather be there if he weren’t coerced to attend a stodgy New Year’s ball.</p><p> </p><p>Pensively, he kicked small pebbles on the gravel path, occasionally, looking up to observe his late-night surroundings.  He passed several houses wafting with the smell of smoke and cheese and spotted a few drunk men swaying in the empty streets. A few meters away he saw an open window where a family of four sat in their dining tables, happily talking and bonding together. The mother stood, said something to his older son, who Bokuto thought was probably around his age, and gave his son a wide hug with a warm smile plastered on her face. The white-grey haired boy felt a throb passed through his chest. He gazed at the small family before him a little longer and the unusual feeling surged back on his body. He tried to persuade himself that it was probably just the chills brought by the holiday air however a part of him knew that he was lying and he just didn’t want to admit that he felt pitiful and pathetic. To see a mother, listening—actually listening and understanding her child made him feel dejected. Who would’ve known that all a rich man’s youngest son ever wanted was neither social status, money nor attention but instead someone who sees him and someone who listens.</p><p> </p><p>All his life Bokuto was used to being spoon-fed by his family yet the boy didn’t particularly like it while growing up because it made him indolent and useless. Still, his parents claimed that they knew their son so well and opted to give him everything they thought he wanted. Not once in his 18 years of existence did they bother to ask him what he ‘needed’. They dressed him up, placed him in a private school and forced him to interact and associate with other wealthy kids from well-off families. Although Bokuto was grateful for the privileges that he got to experience in his life, he wasn’t truly happy.</p><p>His own family was like a ghost to him. A ghost, existent and present but cannot feel. .A fragment of the old who watches and trails him wherever he goes. A magical spirit bounded to his being and grants him all the treasures in life. A phantom that he dreadfully fears and haunts his dreams..</p><p>They were everything he thought them to be but not alive. Because if they were alive, they would listen, they would feel and they would understand that everything they do cages him in tight box like a tiny owl trapped, unable to obtain freedom.</p><p> If his mother really knew him, she wouldn’t be going out on events, convincing her son to talk to every young lady he sees. She wouldn’t be pressuring him to swiftly find a maiden to court and marry because she would’ve understood that Bokuto never had plans on marrying and will never plan to. He only wished that someday she would see and her two sisters would see that he was never meant  for marriage and commitment. He wanted to be free, to travel the world and see the endless beauty that the world has to offer.  He wanted to thrive on the unreleased passion and vibrancy inside of him. To finally set the owl free from his hinges. He wanted to live life blazingly and he could only do that if he leaves the clinging ghosts of his past before him.</p><p> </p><p>Exhaling, Bokuto cleared his thoughts and turned to the other direction, moving away from the family home. He went and walked towards east, approaching the waters of the Thames and the large structure of Blackfriars Bridge.</p><p> </p><p>××××</p><p> </p><p>Akaashi was still leaning against one of the parapets when he suddenly spotted a tall figure in his peripheral vision. It was half past ten and the fog over the river has thickened, obscuring most of his vision so he couldn't see his surroundings clearly enough.</p><p>He wondered who would be out at this time of night. It was evident that most residents were inside their homes celebrating New Year’s. No one would bother trading their warm homes over the silent cold of Blackfriars Bridge. Only that, Akaashi was an exception. He felt his heartbeat quickened when the figure walked a few paces towards him. He averted his eyes and hopefully prayed that they wouldn't sense his presence and ignore him.</p><p>However after a couple of minutes, as Akaashi decided to look back again, he felt the sudden weight of someone's proximity. Behind him, he heard slow and gentle breathing and was about to risk a glance when the figure remarked.</p><p>“Isn't it too late to be out sightseeing?”</p><p>Quickly, he swerved around and saw a pair of pale gold eyes, ablaze and luminous against the twilight gazing back at him. For a minute, Akaashi couldn't move. He was entranced and all he could see was the gleaming of orbs, so in contrast to the darkness of the night wrapped around them.</p><p>Not long after, Akaashi noticed he was staring. He shook his head and diverted his stare, alarmed by his sudden reaction.</p><p>“I'm sorry.” He hastily replied, wringing his fingers.</p><p>“I don't mean to be rude but what for?”</p><p>Akaashi risked another glimpse of the man before him. This time, the raven boy noticed that he evidently belonged to the upper caste. He was tall and lean, about his age. He carried an air of confidence and regality in him as he stood upright, one hand tucked in his pocket. His hair dyed white-grey with a few black streaks were neatly pushed back against his head, he was turned out in a black shirt beneath an ivory dress suit and a polished pair of closed shoes. Out of a sudden, Akaashi became hyper aware that his worn out vest and stout trousers were oddly out of place in this side of the city.</p><p>However, the boy curiously thought what a fine gentleman would be doing at a time like this. The fog had gradually faded and he could see that the stranger wasn't entirely foxed—although he could whiff a faint scent of alcohol in him, to be tottering around unconsciously.</p><p>“Uh..” Bokuto cleared his throat, bringing Akaashi back to the present. “Excuse me, are you okay? Do you perhaps need anything?”</p><p>Akaashi slightly frowned. “I could say the same about you.”</p><p>Bokuto only stared back. He feared he might have surprised and overwhelmed the guy when he first approached him. He sighed and was about to apologize when he saw Akaashi was staring disprovingly on his outfit. Then, he looked down, checked his clothes and noticed.</p><p>
  <em>Right.</em>
</p><p>“Well, first of all, this getaway wasn't exactly planned.” He shrugged. “Obviously, you could see I came from a party. Not a really good one, if I must say. I left with no destination in mind. Very foolish of me. And—”</p><p>Bokuto continued rattling. “And, no, I'm not drunk. It's just that before I knew it I found myself heading towards this bridge.”</p><p>Bokuto clearly did not expect to talk that much, much less to a stranger but he was jaded from the events earlier that he needed someone to talk to. Besides, the young lad didn't have anything else to do and the other boy looks lonely. Might as well provide him some company.</p><p>Akaashi didn't respond. He only nodded, eyes glued on the river.</p><p>After a few silence, Bokuto leaned against the parapet not too close beside him, looking over the lights reflected on the Thames as well. Then, Akaashi spoke again.</p><p>“Your family might be searching for you.”</p><p>Bokuto had a bitter smile.“No. They would not.” The voice coming from him must've hinted a despondent tone that Akaashi slowly turned towards him, eyes filled with a steady, unusual curiosity.</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>This time it was Bokuto's turn not to answer. For some reason, he just couldn't directly say that his parents would do look for him, it is only that they didn't want drama and rumors to arise so they chose to remain silent because after all, they knew that regardless of his multiple attempts Bokuto could never truly leave the family.</p><p>He ignored Akaashi and instead, Bokuto remarked, remembering the exact words he had read years ago.</p><p>"Any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.”</p><p>He heard a sharp intake of breath followed by a soft voice, barely a whisper against the wind.</p><p>“Homer.” The boy beside him murmured. “Illiad.”</p><p>Akaashi, now had his full focus transfixed to Bokuto's side profile. The air whipped strands of hair over his forehead, tousling it even more. The gleam of the moonlight shone directly on his well-defined features. In that moment, as Akaashi regarded him carefully, he thought that the boy looked younger, lovelier and.. sadder.</p><p>Strangely enough, he felt the urge to reach up and touch him. He wanted to push back the lock of hair dangling on his forehead, he wanted to erase the sadness swimming in his eyes, he wanted to listen to the depth of his soul and tell him all would be well.</p><p>But, Akaashi could not. Because like Bokuto, he was also haunted by his own ghosts.</p><p>“Homer believed that pain and death makes everything lovelier when we are closer to it but I never agreed with him.”  Akaashi saw Bokuto  moved his head towards him.</p><p>The raven-haired boy gave him a wistful smile.<br/>
“Because we are even more beautiful–ravishing when we are free.”</p><p>Right then and there, Akaashi witnessed a streak of light flicker between Bokuto's golden orbs. His heart skipped a beat.</p><p>The young lad eyed him and  gave him one of the most dazzling smiles he saw in his entire life. It was like the sun beaming and illuminating the world after a storm. A small warmth blossomed inside Akaashi's chest, dissipating the heavy weight that carried within it.</p><p>For the first time today, he wasn't numb. He wasn't alone. He felt light and contented like dandelions fluttering in a spring breeze.</p><p>Bokuto drew closer and gazed at Akaashi's ebony orbs mirroring the soft glow of his.</p><p>“Are you free, then?” His tone a gentle caress to Akaashi. “From your own ghosts?”</p><p>“No. But someday, I would be.”</p><p>Bokuto softly chuckled and gave him another one of his beautiful grins.</p><p>“Then, someday I would too.”</p><p>Akaashi was about to open his mouth to respond when the large bell of St. Paul's chimed midnight. Fireworks started hissing nearby and exploded into spectacular displays of light in the dark sky. Down the other side, residents spilled out in the streets to witness the striking sounds and lights. Children endlessly jumped and laughed, a good way to start the first day of a new year.</p><p>“I guess, I'll be leaving now. ” Bokuto stated, scratching the back of his head. The lad was unsure if he really wanted to leave but it was already midnight and he was supposed to be back hours ago. He was hesitant because strangely he found it nice and comfortable to be with this stranger before him.</p><p>Akaashi nodded and smiled. “Have a happy New Year.”</p><p>Akaashi also didn't want him to leave. He wished to be stuck here in this moment. Like a perfect photograph, captured and stay in it forever. But then again, life goes on and the young gentleman had to return. Akaashi knew though that when Bokuto returns it wouldn't be the same as how he left before, because the ghosts who had clinged on him for years will gradually fade away.</p><p>“It's been a pleasure and happy New Year to you.”</p><p> </p><p>××××</p><p> </p><p><strong>SEVEN YEARS AFTER</strong><br/>
1894, January 1st</p><p>Akaashi strolled on the low granite bridge of Blackfriar's, passing around the hustle of people hurrying to reach their destinations. Akaashi didn't mind the residents as he continued walking, clutching a piece of newspaper article in his arms.</p><p>When he found a perfectly good spot, he leaned againt the dark red parapets and began reading the first headline, a set of bolded large letters in the front of the newspaper.</p><p> </p><p>"<strong><em>Bokuto Koutarou nets winner in Wimbledon tournament</em></strong></p><p>
  <em>Article by Akaashi Keiji</em>
</p><p><em>Bokuto Koutarou garners first place as he wins the Grand Slam Finals in the Wimbledon Championships Single category with a 1–6, 2–6, 4–6.</em>"<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>He smiled. His thoughts drifted back to the night of New Years' Eve a couple of years ago. The night where he met a dashing young boy clad in formal clothes, eyes as gold as the stars shining in the sky.</p><p>Staring right back at him in the paper was the same dazzling smile that touched his heart. His eyes no longer contain the slight fog of despair that it had before but instead was completely replaced by blazing joy.</p><p>Akaashi couldn't be happier for him. To see the boy free from the ghosts of his pasts. To see the boy soaring high against all odds. To see the boy achieve the dreams of his soul. To finally get what his heart and soul needed all along.</p><p>The wind blew his ebony hair, bringing with it the stench of salt and smoke. Akaashi thought to himself how bridge became more than just a structure built to connect the two ends of London but it became a reminder how the bridge connected to young lost boys together. It was in this bridge that two ghosts met to seek solitude and freedom.</p><p>Bokuto's words suddenly rang in his ears that he almost felt the same gentle caress that it brought.</p><p>“Are you free, then?”</p><p>Before, Akaashi wasn't exactly sure if he could ever answer this question wholeheartedly. However, he was proven wrong because now he had his answer.</p><p>Someday, when they meet again, they wouldn't be two ghosts anymore. They were now both thriving with life. Alive and breathing. Free and happy.</p><p>And when he comes to face the same white-grey haired boy that he had learned love after all these years, he would give him the most beautiful grin and say.</p><p>“<em>Yes, I am free.</em>”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hiiiiii everyone! this is my first work for my new hq series (hq characters in victorian london) i had so much fun writing this even though i may not be entirely good in victorian english (i tried *sobs) ive done a lot of research for this and volleyball wasn't invented around this time so i made bokuto a tennis player instead(i think it suits him well) anyways, i do hope yall enjoyed reading this. i appreciate it soo much. you can check my other works too hehehe lovelots! &lt;3</p><p>p.s. my next fic will be a sakuatsu *wink*<br/>follow me on anitwt: @keijiyume</p></blockquote></div></div>
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